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John Cleese's Nipple

Issue Date: Tuesday, Mar. 02, 2004

Did that title catch your attention? I'll explain, I promise.

Sleep mocks me.

Sleep sticks out its fuzzy tongue and zurbert’s me.

The past two mornings I have awoken from my fitful rest with a Keanu Reeve’s “whoooa” in the back of my throat. Sweating slightly and very disoriented. This is not the way to wake up people. Fear and anxiety are not bringers of good cheer for a weekday.

The dreams. Oh man, these have Got. To. Stop.

Yesterday I awoke to the notion that I had just been dry humping James Van Der Beek… underwater. Would that be wet humping? Apparently James, Jason Mewes (of Jay & Silent Bob) and I had been playing a game of craps under the bleachers at a high school baseball game. For some reason the craps game was done under water and I was able to breathe. Not to mention the fact that we had just successfully pulled off a Can’t Hardly Wait type of party at my parent’s house while they were out of town.

Um. Am I seventeen?

And what’s with the humping of Dawson’s Creek dude? I don’t even find him, or his five head* attractive.

*A five head is larger and more pronounced than a forehead. For an example… well, you could click on the link for the love of Pete!

This morning, Sheesh, it was all I could do not to weep with frustration. I spent most of the evening writhing in pain from my uterus falling out (yes, this is an exaggeration) and when I did finally drift off to sleep [thank you Tylenol Extra Max with Wings!] I found myself in a very large mansion. This mansion was the property of my good friend [who knew?] John. John was dying and he had in his possession a machine that would allow him to extract his soul so his body would die but his soul could move on. When it was John’s time to go; and apparently it happened to be right then; they pointed this large phallic looking gun thing at him and pulled the trigger. His ‘host’ never showed up so another John… John Cleese … yes, of Monty Python… asked if I would act as dead John’s host for the evening. All I could think was, ‘Well, sure, just for a little bit, as I am about to start my period.’

Like I had nothing better to do.

So dead John and his white purple soul thing floated into me and all I can remember is thinking how tired I was all of the sudden. That if this is how dead John’s soul felt, I couldn’t imagine how awful his meat suit [read: body] felt in life. Ew. I sat down with John Cleese and he rubbed my finger on his exposed nipple.

!?!? What the?…

Mr. Cleese asked me to promise him that I would never let dead John’s soul rub his nipple like that because it would [and I quote], “Make me feel all squinky.” I had to get out of there.

I went to lie down because I was so tired but my girlfriend, Ginger, stopped me and asked me why I had sold her out, Apprentice style. I told her that it was never my intention to hurt her or her feelings and that I didn’t [for the life of me] remember selling her out in anyway. She whispered, “Judas.”

I felt so small. I knew I needed to fix my friendship with her but I also needed to take care of a problem.

I was elected the leader of this group to take care of the roach infestation of the mansion. No wonder John was dead.

With my trusty hairdryer I went after the roaches that were boiling up from this fountain at the end of this walkway. They would disappear when blasted with the hot air but come back triple when I turned the air stream from them if even for a moment. They were closing around my feet as well.

I had to go back to the banquet hall and grab the repellant. This stuff was awesome. I had used it before apparently because I was yearning for it like it was a Lauren cashmere sweater. I needed this stuff. It was supposed to kill the roaches instantly. I knocked a couple off my legs; [one was biting me… ow!] and I ran back down the walkway. I sprayed the repellant and the little roach carcasses dried up instantly and began to disintegrate.

I was Joyful!

YES! I thought, this stuff ROCKS!

Then I saw it… all along the sides of the walkway, bundles of roaches and other nasty things were morphing together to make …. Ugh… this kills me….to make puppies and kittens. I was supposed to kill them!

My team was yelling for me to kill them before they morphed again!

I sprayed the repellant into the muzzles of a few doe-eyed furry babies. Then I just kept walking. I couldn’t do it anymore. My heart was breaking.

The repellant can turned into my family cat from when I was like 8 years old and her claws were all split and misshapen.

Then I woke up.


I did not eat any habanero peppers before I laid my head down to sleep.

Nor have I watched any Dawson’s Creek… [ever actually], Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back, Monty’s Python, John Carpenter's The Thing or the Orkin channel. I haven't seen my girlfriend Ginger since 1994, and I doubt that my hair dryer has any super powers.

I just need a nap.


I’m pooped.

By the way, Mister and I are off to see The Passion of Christ tonight. I wonder what kind of dreams I'll have after that.

Alas my notify list is all tarded, please pardon my slowness to send out update emails. Thank you.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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